How to Be Me: A Self Styled Story
by Harbinger-of-script
Summary: Child of an ancient and Noble house has been recognized as going to Hogwarts. Ethan George(OC) is that child. Coming from the Americas to take his schooling in the fabled school of Hogwarts, How will this Yank deal with the vastly different prejudices of Magical Britain? Join us in the telling of his First year, as he makes friends and enemies of his peers! First Year Fic!
1. How to be Me Prologue

Good evening readers, as I'm sure you will see, this is a story of a sort I have not yet written, and continued at least. Monsters of Men, and Men of Monsters; How one becomes the other, and the other becomes the one. How a man of Light can fall into the deepest Darkness, and how a man of Darkness and come out into the brightest of lights. These are just a few of the tales I will be spinning within this Yarn of my making.

To tell this tale of mighty beings, one must first think of a time long past.

Saint George, the progenitor of my line, who's name begot a church and an Oder or two, is where the story of my life, and eventual death, begins. In the early years of the New Age, 298AD, in the Year of Our Lord. Born to Parents, Father Gerontius and Mother Polychromia, he lived in the Roman province of Lydda. During his stint, of all his life, serving in the Roman military machine... George came out to Lebanon one day under the directions of his Officer. There he was forever immortalized in both the common world as a hero for slaying a dragon, and the Magical, for stopping a rampaging beast from further destroying magical lands and peoples.

From then on, he was heralded as a Saint, and later Martyred when his Roman superiors found that he would not renounce his faith in Christianity. Emboldening the Christian faith with his death, the faith bloomed.

He was the first of my line, a man of distinction and right-mindedness. He held to his faith, as many of his family has done throughout the ages, and just as mine has done today. He began the backbone that has lasted my family through more wars than many could ever remember... Germanic, French, English, American, World, Vietnam, Korean, and so on and so forth...

Distinctions and Honors have been awarded, and forgotten by my family over the course of the centuries... But the one thing that has never escaped my family, even in the ages of Gunpowder and technology , is the ways of Chivalry, Manners, and the over abundance to show our warrior hearts to those that seek to destroy us...

The way of sword and shield may be long forgotten to the sands of time. But, for a family that treasures history, above technology, it shall forever be apart of our hearts and souls. Alas, I must now break from this history lesson, as my father now reminds me, I must be off to shore up my chores and play with my brothers.

From yours truly; Ethan Andrews George, Son of Mathew Andrews George.


	2. How to be Me: Ethan Andrews George P1

"Hey Dad! How's your day been thus far?" I asked as I skipped into the front room of our small house. The off-white walls contrasted starkly with the large black TV that sat across from the tan and dark brown sued sectional to my right. All the windows were open, which allowed a nice cross breeze to blow through the room. My Dad, a tall man of 5'11", sat in the middle of the sectional with his feet up on a stool of the same design and material as the sectional. Dad was wearing his work cloths, and orange shirt with blue jeans and a traffic jacket with reflectors sewn into the back, chest and shoulders.

He looked over to me and grunted with a smile.

"Hey son!" he greeted with tired glee, "My day's been good, we dug up a whole set of Pipes for AT&T today. WE got to watch them put in their new Cable Wires for the Phones before filling the whole trench back up," Dad told me lazily, a wave of his hand indicating that it wasn't much of anything special. To me though, it sounded like the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Did you get to do anything else?" I asked him as I jumped up on the couch next to him to watch the TV with him.

"Don't plop into the couches Ethan, and yeah I guess. I got to use the Backhoe today, those big excavator type machines that you and your brothers like to play with out in the sand box...," Dad said, identifying the machine for me a bit more easily. I loved to dig, it was one of my favorite things to do, beside build massive things out of Legos.

"Cool!" I almost shouted in excitement. I laughed when my dad poked me in the ribs, a smile brightening up his face as he heard my laughs.

"Of course it is," He laughed, his deep voice making it sound almost booming in my ears. It was a comforting sound. As we sat, engrossed in watching Animal Planet's The Most Extreme Countdown, neither of us paid much attention when the sound of the Mailbox at the front door opened and closed loudly. As we sat there, glued to the screen, we both barely paid attention when my two brothers, both younger than me by a few years each, walked in.

Scott, my younger brother by three years, with blond hair and grayish green blue eyes, shimmied up onto the couch next to me. The seven year old smiled at me as I slung an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into my side.

"Hey Scotty!" I beamed down at him. My brother scowled playfully at me and smacked me in the chest.

"Its Scott, Ethan, not Scotty... No matter how many times Dad laughs when you call me that!" He groaned at me. A second later he smiled up and gave me a hug anyway.

My youngest brother, James, whom was nine years younger than me, plopped down on the floor in between Dad's legs and stared up at him with wide eyes. His blue pacifier moved back and forth between his lips as he made doe eyes at us. Dad laughed at the pathetic expression on my brothers face and hoisted him up into his arms. Scott and I both giggled madly at the baby of the family as he squirmed in our Dad's hands.

"Fine, if you don't want to hang with your cool Dad, you can sit with your goofy lookin' brothers!" Dad said in a mock hurt tone as he handed Scott and I our brother. At first he laid across our laps, he baby blue eyes shinning up at us with hidden intelligence. He than began to squirm and giggle behind his pacifier, which then had my brother and I scooting over a bit so we could accommodate James sitting in between us.

Once we were comfortable, we both placed an arm around James and gave him a bit of a tickle. Dad laughed at us when he heard the giggling, but quickly admonished us to quiet down when the show came back on. Dad placed his own arm around us, though over our heads on the top of the couch. As the show progressed, we learned about some of the worlds most extreme bugs.

The fire bug, the Stick bug, the Aphid, the Water Bear, and several others.

Once the show was over, and the next episode was about to start, Dad stretched and looked a the front door.

"Hey, Ethan, you think you could get the mail for me?" Dad asked with a bit of exhaustion creeping into his voice.

"Sure Dad!" I said happily. I carefully disentangled myself from my brothers and walked speedily over to the door. I flicked the deadbolt to the unlatched position, undid the child lock on the upper part of the door, opened it, undid the second deadbolt on the security door and unlocked the doorknob. I kept the wood door open and gently closed the screen door as I turned around and checked the mailbox.

I flipped through the mail rather easily, as I knew what Dad would want the most, and what he would have Mom look at later. What I found though, was not what I would have imagined. I found the regular bills, Power, Gas, Water, Waste, Phone, and Cable bills... Along with the junk mail any person within the USA is familiar with. What was odd though, was the heavy paper envelope that had a wax seal on it.

"Here you go Dad!" I called as I locked up the doors. It wasn't that we lived in a bad neighborhood or anything, the locks were more in place so that my younger brothers and I wouldn't be able to get out of the house. Though, stories on that will be for another time.

"Thanks son," Dad smiled as he looked through the mail. When he spotted what I had in my hands though, he shifted an eye brow and tilted his head in question. "What's that Ethan? Someone send you a letter?" He asked, pleasantly confused at the simple fact of his son getting mail.

"Um... I don't know... It has 'Hogwarts school For Witchcraft and Wizardry' written across it... And its addressed to me, but the address is funny... IT says, 'To Ethan Andrews George, 5687 N Blackstone Fresno CA 93704 USA, Last Bedroom at the end of the hall.'" I told him as I fiddled with the letter. Dad stared at it funnily enough for a few seconds before he scratched his beard and shrugged at it.

"Go ahead and open it son, maybe its a prank or something from your uncles?" Dad shrugged.

Now, before we continue with this story, some of you might be wondering a few things. Like; _why hasn't he mentioned magic_ , or _Why does his Father not recognize anything that he said about Magic..._ Or even, _Are they even AWARE of magic?!_ Well, They are aware of Magic, but in The USA, Magic was taught more as a secondary to what Everyone else was taught. Also, My Dad did understand what I was telling him, he just hadn't thought that I would be getting a letter from such a school in the United States. But, I digress.

"Alright Dad, I'll be in my room lookin' this over, Ok?" I asked.

"Sure," was his only reply, along with a half cocked smile as I ran off. I heard him play with my brothers as I hunkered down at my personal desk. My room was rather oddly shaped. It was about eight feet wide, twelve feet long, and had two windows in it. One looked out over the side of the house, to the left of me bedroom door on the far wall, and the other was almost directly across from my bedroom door and looked out over what used to be the backyard enclosed patio... Which was later converted into a restroom/closet for my parents... It made for interesting conversations with anyone that decided to open that window.

The room was painted the same off-white as the rest of the house, a small twin bed lay under the far left window, and across the wall to the bedroom doors left, both coming together to make an L shape. Under the window for the bathroom, was my Desk. To the right of the desk, and most the rest of the room, was my closet. Altogether, it was very homey and well lived in, especially seeing as I shared it with my younger brother Scott.

Sitting at the desk I ripped open the wax seal and began to read over my letter. What I found there in, was quite shocking to say the least!

" _Dear Mr. George, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all class equipment and supplies needed for your stay here at Hogwarts. Term begins on the 1st of September, and we await your Owl, no later than August 31st."_

 _"Minerva McGonagall; Deputy Headmistress."_

 _"First year students shall require- Three sets of (black) work robes, one plain black pointed hat, one pair of work gloves(Dragon Hide or similar)._

 _All students will require the following course books- Standard Book of Spells(Grade 1), A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical herbs and Remedies, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._

 _Students must also bring the following equipment- One Wand, One Cauldron(Pewter, Standard Size 2), One set of either Glass or Crystal Phials(Un-enchanted!), One Telescope, One Set of Brass Scales."_

 _"Students may also bring one of the following: Owl, Cat, or toad. If given permission from a parent or guardian, with School board approval, student may bring another creature/familiar below XX class."_

 _"Parents/Guardians are also reminded that First years are not allowed brooms!"_

I stared at the letter for a little bit, amused by some of the wording. I read it over again, just to make sure it wasn't a trick. Seeing that there were none of the tells that my uncles used in their own works, I smirked and folded it back up. I grabbed a pencil and a sheaf of paper from my desk and ran off to the front room.

"Hey, Dad!" I called as I walked in with the Pencil and Paper. "I got somethin' for yah!"

"What'd that be son?" Dad asked, his head lolled back over the top of the couch to look at me as I stood in the door way to the front room.

"That letter I got, I think it's real!" I told him as I handed it over. He unfolded it and lazily ran his eyes over the parchment. He frowned when he saw the name of the person that had written it, but didn't seem all too concerned.

"What do you think, Son? Should we wait for your Mom to get home and talk this over, over the weekend?" Dad asked me, his brow raised in question.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me!" I smiled. Mom knew more about magic than Dad or I did, so it was a much smarter choice to wait for the weekend and discuss it with her, than to make the choice on our own. Besides the point that it would be deciding the next few years of my schooling if I had understood the Letter correctly.


	3. How to be Me: Ethan Andrews George P2

"Hmm... Yeah, it's her," Mom said thoughtfully as she raid over the letter for the third time. Her long black hair was done up in a loose ponytail that trailed over her left shoulder. It matched her black blouse almost perfectly. Her brown eyes shown with a great intelligence as she eyed myself and the paper, glancing back and forth between us.

"Do you think it would be wise?" Dad asked her as she sipped at his Budweiser. The dark brown glass glinted in the light of the dinning room. The room was right off the hallway to the bedrooms, adjacent to to the Family room in such a way that you had to walk through the Dinning room to get to the Family room. The room had only two other entrances. Those were the doors to the outside and Kitchen respectively.

I sat at the head of the table, right between my Dad and Mom. I simply looked from Mom to Dad as they passed the proverbial buck back and forth between themselves as to how we, as a family, were going to answer the Letter.

"If we want him to have a better Magical Experience I would say go for it... We wouldn't see him for most the year though..." Mom hedged.

"True, but we wouldn't have to worry about racial prejudices there as much, would we?" Dad asked her.

"No, but if I remember correctly hun, they are Blood Purists, so it may not be much better," She sighed as she rubbed her chin in thought.

"I think he might be even better off there, if that's the case!" Dad laughed, he shot Mom a cheeky grin and winked at me. "You know how extensive our lines are, Bray and George go back a few thousand years at best! And God knows how many magicals we have in our family!" Dad pointed out to her.

I remembered all the different tales about our Family. How one of my Ancestors slayed a Dragon, as a Muggle, and was hailed as a hero and later a saint by a great part of the world. I even knew about how much of our family, warriors that they were, had served in most of the major wars across the globe. Most notable for my immediate family was my Grandfather, a Harrison Clive George, who served in the Vietnam War.

He wasn't a Magical, by any sense of the word, but he had a presence about him that made every person within ear-shot listen and listen good. I loved hearing stories from him-about his times in the war- and how the world used to be just a score or two ago. He was a treasure trove of information for my family and I. He knew battle tactics, he knew how to build airplanes, he even knew how to stage trench Warfare!

"That is a good point Sam, but-," Dad cut Mom off with a look and pointed innocuously at me. Looked at me, looked at Dad, looked back to me, and then glared at Dad.

"Ethan, would you like to go to this school?" Mom asked me.

"I don't know Mom... I think it'd be fun to go," I smiled encouragingly. Her brown eyes shown with pride and love at my words, Dad also seemed to radiate some form of parental mischief as well when I heard him chuckle. I rolled my eyes at Dad's childishness, though it was funny to watch the reactions he would get out of Mom sometimes when he'd do it in her presence.

"So... As it's June now... We have a couple months to get your standard schooling schooled away and your relatives informed about what you'll be doing. You know your Grandparents will be wanting to see you off as well. And your Great-Grandma Bray will be more than determined to show up. Crazy old bint that she is...," Dad grumbled. Mom shot Dad a warning look and huffed at his words about her Grandma.

"What, you know she's crazy Dawn," Dad exclaimed with a pout. Mom snorted and shook her head.

"Yes, she's old, and a bit insane... But you'd be insane too if you had to deal with five kids and their assorted grandchildren for the last eighty years... Woman has enough on her plate with having to put up with her sister, let alone the rest of us," Mom smirked a bit. I knew what she was reminiscing about; a few years ago, around my fifth birthday if Mom's tales are correct, Grandma Bray just about hexed her sister and _her_ children out of the country after one of the little blighters had made a scathing remark about one of my uncles daughters.

"True, but we're getting off topic, hun," Dad hedged, he tried to sound indifferent, but he knew that-should things hit the fan-he should hit the deck if or, better yet, when Mom got angry.

"Yes," Mom nodded. She sighed and walked into the kitchen. I idly read over the letter again as Mom went about fetching a few glasses of water for us. Being the middle of Summer in the Valley, it was almost unbearably hot. In the shade, it was a balmy 102' degrees Fahrenheit... In the sun... It was a scalding 113 Degrees Fahrenheit. You could fry an egg on the sidewalk, straight out of the fridge if you wanted to! No pan or butter required, though you'd make a damn fine mess.

"Here you go Honey," Mom said as she set the cup of water down in front of me. Dad deftly picked it up and took a small swig. I pouted at him and he grinned petulantly in return. Mom huffed and set Dad's glass down in front of me instead of giving it to him.

"Hey!" Dad exclaimed mock petulantly.

"That's what you get for being impatient!" Mom shot back just as easily. I laughed at their banter.

"So...," I hedged, getting my parents' attention. "DO you mind if I go? Or would you rather I stay here?" I asked.

"I think it would be a welcome change Ethan. It's been many centuries since a George has been to Hogwarts... It's time they get a taste of America's oldest Wizarding Family," Dad smirked. Mom snorted and shook her head.

"I agree Ethan, it would also give you a chance to meet some new kids your age, and possibly a girl or two!" Mom said with a wag of her brows. I scowled at Mom. It wasn't that I was adverse to meeting, and making, some new friends, but Girls... They just didn't appeal to me at that time. At least, I wouldn't allude to that in front of my parents, My personal thoughts on girls were my own, and I wished them to stay that way.

"Sure, I'd like that!" I smiled. I pawed at my glass awkwardly. It filled me with an express feeling of accomplishment to be treated as an equal by my parents. It wasn't often that they let me in on their conversations, as usually when they did it had to do with a punishment or finding out information on something my brothers may have done. In short, I was happy.

"Well then, We'll send a positive reply!" Dad declared smiling. Mom nodded and smiled along with him as she patted me on the head. She kissed my cheek and walked out of the room, apparently going to grab some parchment to write our return letter.


	4. How to be Me: Ethan Andrews George P3

Exuberant excitement was what I felt when my Mom and Dad walked me through the green flames of the Floo network. They had figured, as I would be attending a school for Britain's magical children, that I should also shop where they did. My mother was dressed in a long flowing robe. It flowed past her feet and pooled out behind her as she walked, the deep purple fabric fluttered and glinted magically in the clear afternoon sun. Her normally turned up black hair was let loose in a cascade of long flowing rivers that reached the small of her back easily.

She exuded an air of peace and utter command as she walked. With my Dad by her side, dressed in his own toga, she was a fearsome sight to behold. Both were armed, Mom with a silvery metal sash that hung around her shoulders like liquid mercury, and my Dad with his ceremonial Celtic Sword on his hip. None of us were even fazed by the blatant stares and scorned looks we were receiving form the surrounding witches and Wizards.

After having spent so long in the Americas, we had gotten used to our families being stared at for their standing in the Wizarding community, and for their part in most of the Muggle community as well. It had made it hard for myself and my relatives to make friends, true friends, but it also bought us a certain amount of respect no matter who we talked to. Here, it seemed our family was just odd to these people.

"Mom, should they be staring like that?" I asked, innocent at the time of why they would be even looking at us in the first place.

"No, they shouldn't, as it is impolite to stare... But then, we are unknown to them honey. You'll just have to show them how to behave I guess," Mom smirked and winked at me when a few magicals around us, having overheard, winced and looked away abruptly. I laughed at their silliness and just kept on my happy march with my parents.

We walked around with naught a care for those that gawked, as their public manor did not concern us. Though, more specifically, it did not concern my parents. I, on the other hand, just found their staring funny. I smiled as my parents led me into a wonderful shop. It was filled to the brim with shelves topped with boxes with even more boxes stacked and cluttered about. Each of them was but the size of a small shoe box, one you might consider for a child's shoe.

We came up to a desk in the middle of the dusty shop and waited for the shops owner. We were surprised, then, to find the man pop up behind us and declare his presence.

"Good morning Mi'lord and Lady George! How are you both?" the curious man inquired. His blank gaze was disconcerting, but warm in a welcome sense. He had white hair, an off white shirt, a tan blazer, an tan slacks. He looked a slight bit disheveled, but he held himself with a an intimidating air. I could tell that he was a dangerous man, but he didn't exude any sort of malevolence.

"It has been many years since a George has been to Olivanders, Mr Olivander. But we are sure you know what this occasion calls for... Correct?" My Dad asked, speaking for all of us at once, as his duty as head of house was. I admired Dad. At least, when he wasn't being a prat, but I admired him. He knew how to talk to people, how to get his ideas across, without stomping on too many toes. He was a wonderful man to talk to about many subjects, History, Religion, Faith, Mortality, The Human Condition, Politics, and many more. he stood there before the older Olivander, and sized him up with ease allowed by his many years of dealing with construction workers, and the members of the UMSA-United Magical States of America, Wizengamot.

"Indeed it has Lord George, about a century and a half if memory serves me right!" Mr. Olivander thought aloud. "And longer still since one of your kin has gone to Hogwarts to study! My, my what will the Brits think of you now!" He chuckled as Dad and Mom eyed him wearily.

"IF we could Mr Olivander, we would love to have our son acquire his wand before lunch... If you would be so kind?" Mom asked politely, a small smile sweeping across her lips.

"What is your wand hand child?" Olivander asked.

"My right, Sir," Olivander nodded excitedly and motioned us to wait while he retrieved the first of his wands. he returned with four boxes, each with a thine layer of dust upon them. He laid the first three on the counter and handed me the last.

"Here you go child, do be careful. Ash wood with ashwinder eggs for the core, and a small ruby for the Foci... Nothing too shabby," Olivander murmured as he let me look over the wand. I gave it a small swish and almost blew apart a window. I dropped it like a hot stone and looked at it as if it'd bit me.

"Not that one then...," Olivander wheezed, a little pale after that performance. "Here, Rosewood and Unicorn hair, with an Agate for the Foci, give it a swish!" I swished it once, and watched in utter horror as my magic whipped out and yanked an entire case of wands down to the ground.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, completely shocked at the turn of events.

'No matter, things happen child," Olivander sighed as he swished his own wand and set things right again. "Was not the first time that has happened, and surely will not be the last," He sighed and pondered the other two wands before discarding them. With a flick of his wand all four wands shot back off to their previous resting places. Hew walked off towards the back, leaving myself with my parents for the moment.

"THose were some impressive feats of un-controlled magic son, you'll be strong when you get it all under control!" Dad chuckled happily.

"True," Mom agreed, "I, for one, am happy that he hasn't thrown us out on our rears yet!" She laughed.

"You mean like what happened with Jean?"

"Yes."

"I felt terrible for that man, she destroyed his whole shop!"

"But Uncle Matt did help rebuild it, if you do remember Sam.

"True, I also remember the after party we all had when it was done... The nightmares!" Dad gave a playful shudder and laughed at Mom's look of pallid horror.

"Sounds like an interesting tail Mi'lord, but I have more wands for your son," Olivander declared as he came back with a few more boxes in hand,

"Are those more wands?" I asked with a bit of trepidation mixed in with my glee.

"Yes, yes they are child," Olivander stated, amused. He handed me the top box and smiled at the small softly at the small glow that emanated from it. He urged me forward to try it out. He, along with my parents, seemed engrossed in the effect that this wand might have.

"Blackthorn and Phoenix feather with an amber Focus stone... seven inches and rather rigid," Olivander explained as I handled the wand gently. The wood was almost black, as its name sake implied, and it had little nodules on it that showed where other stems used to be upon the wood.

I gave it small swish and watched as a small torrent of fire shot out of the end and engulfed the box it had been laying in. The fire put itself out almost as soon as it had begun. Nothing was left of the box but a few ashes and the metal plate that housed the wands specifications and serial number.

Olivander blinked slowly at the display and eyed the wand skeptically. He huffed and placed his hand forward in a genial show. I placed the wand back in his hand and looked at it with a bit of confusion.

"It seems that this is a possible wand for your son Mi'lord, but not quite. He might use it as a second later in life, but for now, I will be back!" Olivander stated sternly, though not at my parents as he was looking intently at the offending wand in his hand.

"Of course Mr Olivander. Take your time, we are not in a rush," Mom stated simply. She flicked out her own wand and summoned a pair of high backed seats for herself and my Dad.

Olivander eyed them, amused at their antics, and walked off to get the wand he had in mind.

It took him only a few minutes to gather up the wand, but he held it with a sort of irreverent disposition. It was as if he despised the wand in his possession.

"Ethan Andrews George... This wand is... Odd... Odder than most things I have seen within these walls, but not as old as many of them," He opened the box and offered me the bottom half containing the wand. "This is a Blackthorn wand, with the horn of a Re'em, a magical bull that only has one horn... And a Bloodstone Focus. This is a very... interesting wand. If it does bond with you, it will serve your blood line to the ends of the earth, but only those of your blood," Olivander emphasized as he looked at my parents with some hidden meaning behind his words.

"Thank you, Mr. Olivander!" I stated weakly, but resolutely. I was truly thankful for the knowledge he had bestowed me with, even if, at the time, it was out of my scope of experience and understanding.

"Now, give it a nice long wave, child, and lets see what happens," Olivander smirked. I could still see his disdain, aimed at the wand as it was, hidden behind his eyes.

I looked the wand over and noted a few variances within its creation from the other Blackthorn wand. This one had bits of crimson red and blackish green woven into the wood in a spiral the started about mid wand and continued all the way to the tip where it formed a small cover of stone over the end, like a cap.

I could feel a warmth wash up from the wand in my hand, it soaked into my very core, my soul, and warmed me from the inside. It felt like I had gotten back a piece of myself and that everything was right with the world again. I could feel the Bloodstone pulse within the wand, it burned warmly in my hand, like the warmth of a fire. That is until it got almost unbearably hot. I almost dropped the wand and screamed at the pain, but instead I held on tighter and refused to be cowed by my wand.

It ate a small hole into the palm of my hand, about the size of a dime, and drank in a few grams of my blood like a sponge. It then sealed off the hole as quickly as it had formed. It was then that a warm glow erupted from my body and showered the rest of my companions in a magical shower of sparks.

"And that, child, is your wand... Blackthorn, Re'em Horn, and Bloodstone... Nine inches, rigid... There is no more loyal a wand than the one in your hand Ethan Andrews George... Treat it well, and it shall give you power like those only imagined."


End file.
